


nacho average dad

by iron_spider



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider/pseuds/iron_spider
Summary: “Christ, Tony,” Happy says, as Tony slides in beside Peter. “He’s taking after you. Now I’ve got two of you to worry about.”Tony shakes his head at Peter, and Peter puts on the biggest smile he can manage, in hopes to get out of any of this finding its way to May. Which it inevitably will, since there were cameras, but he’s an expert in putting off the inevitable.“Yeah,” Tony says. “Don’t I know it.”
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 60
Kudos: 611





	nacho average dad

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to JAM <3 :D

Peter is concentrating. This new web bomb combination has been giving him hell since he started working on it a week ago, and he knows he’s probably measuring something wrong or something but he’s been watching closely every single time and it doesn’t seem wrong and everything lines up so why does it keep trying to explode? Peter doesn’t want it to explode. He definitely doesn’t want it to explode. That’s the last thing he wants.

Well, not now. Not yet. Explode later, at the bad guys. Explode with _webs_. Not fire.

Tony is tinkering around on the other side of the lab, humming a little to himself, occasionally offering help if Peter needs it. Peter is being stubborn about this, which makes Tony laugh and probably reminds him of himself, but Peter wants to do this shit on his own because he came up with it and he should be able to do it, dammit. 

He starts filling up the flask again, willing his hand not to shake, when—

when—

Tony _screams_ —is he screaming?—in a great intake of breath, and Peter startles, breaking the flask in his hand in a panic, but when he looks up nothing is attacking Tony, nothing is hurting him, and he winces, head tilting back and then forward again in the loudest, most massive sneeze Peter’s ever heard in his life. Well, since—since—

He doesn’t think, because the memories still tinge and his hands are bleeding and what the hell just happened?

“Jesus,” Tony says, grimacing at himself, yanking three tissues out of the box in the corner. 

“What the hell was that?” Peter says, eyes wide, hands trembling in front of him. 

“I _sneezed_ —”

“Uh, yeah, everybody in the compound knows that,” Peter says, still staring at him incredulously. 

Tony wipes his nose and glances over, and then his eyes go wide. “Are you _bleeding?_ ”

Peter scoffs, and looks down at his hands where the glass cut him. “Uh, yeah, you scared the shit out of me with that ridiculous _dad sneeze_ —”

“Christ, c’mere,” Tony says, tossing the tissue, all concern now. He keeps his eyes on Peter as Peter makes his way over, and Tony washes his hands fast at the nearest cleanup station. 

“It’s not that bad,” Peter says, flexing his fingers a little, grimacing.

“C’mere,” Tony says again, grabbing what looks like a pair of forceps to start taking out the little pieces of glass. “Sorry, shit, I don’t know where the hell that came from.” He takes Peter’s right wrist in his hand, and gently starts removing the glass. 

“Dad sneeze,” Peter says again. He clears his throat. “Ben used to do that. It’s like a, uh—superpower guys get when they become a father figure, I guess.” He realizes what he’s saying and he looks away from Tony fast, his face going hot.

But Tony just laughs, smiling. “Guess I better try and keep it in check when you’re handling sharp objects, huh, super strength?”

Peter scoffs again. “I think anybody would have broken what they were holding if they heard that, super strength or not.”

“Ice cream as repayment,” Tony says, dropping the pieces of glass into the sharps disposal. “And my eternal apologies.”

Peter grins too, realizing what’s just passed between them, in not so many words. “Mint chocolate chip?”

Tony raises his eyebrows, still looking down at Peter’s hands. “Is there any other flavor?”

~

“You could have been _killed_ —”

“I always could have been killed,” Peter says, crossing his arms over his chest. He can still hear the cheering and the engines of the cars that are running the most recent lap.

“Peter,” Tony says, fuming. The moonlight behind him nearly washes him out. “You can’t drive.”

“I can drive,” Peter says, and Karen is, for some reason, monitoring Tony’s rising heart rate. “I just drove. And I didn’t die.”

“You can’t drive,” Tony says. “You’ve only had four lessons with me and May—”

“I’ve had _six_ lessons—”

“No, no, those two Saturdays don’t count,” Tony says, crossing his arms now, too. “Every lesson in which May exits the car doesn’t count.”

“Listen!” Peter nearly yells. “I did my speech, it was—not terrible, I signed autographs and they said they wanted Spider-Man to run a few laps on the go kart track! They had the Spider-Man go kart, how could I say no?”

“You just need to _think_ about these things before you—”

“You did this exact thing, but worse,” Peter says, pointing at him. “In a real race car, in Monaco, before the—”

“Do as I _say_ , not as I _do_ ,” Tony says, throwing a relieved but stiff arm around Peter’s shoulder. “They could have rigged the engine to explode, the track could have been too rough—”

“You’re paranoid!” Peter laughs, as Tony leads him to the car, where Happy’s waiting. “It was fine, and you set this up! You wouldn’t set me up at an event where they were trying to kill me.”

“Not intentionally,” Tony says, with a big sigh. “Jesus, kid, you’re gonna give your old man a heart attack.”

Peter laughs, pulling his mask off when he gets into the car. 

“Christ, Tony,” Happy says, as Tony slides in beside Peter. “He’s taking after you. Now I’ve got two of you to worry about.”

Tony shakes his head at Peter, and Peter puts on the biggest smile he can manage, in hopes to get out of any of this finding its way to May. Which it inevitably will, since there were cameras, but he’s an expert in putting off the inevitable.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Don’t I know it.”

~

Peter and Morgan share a look. 

It’s a look Peter knows well, like the two of them are spies on a top secret mission. Threats everywhere—well, one particular threat. His feet up, his eyes closed, his mouth open slightly.

Tony. 

This is a tentative moment, one that balances on a tightrope, and Peter glances over at Tony at the same time Morgan does. Both of them considering. Both of them trying to guess if now is their moment to strike.

The TV has been on some old western for the last hour, and they usually like it when Tony shows them old movies he enjoys, Peter especially, considering his penchant for hoarding older films like a packrat in all the corners of his mind. But this one is really old, and it’s no fun when Tony isn’t rattling off facts or sharing stories of when he first saw the movie he’s having them watch.

No, he’s doing that _thing_ again. Where he completely bails and leans back in the lounge chair and closes his eyes, leaving them behind with something they don't particularly want to watch if he’s not watching it with them.

But it’s a thing because they’re not sure if he’s sleeping or not. If he is, they can get away with putting the TV on something else.

But if he’s _not_ … they’re gonna hear about it.

Peter stares at him a moment more, watches him breathe softly through his mouth, his iron arm hanging off the side of the chair. Morgan gets up, quiet, quiet as a mouse, and Peter follows—both of them approach the lounge chair, peering at him, and he’d definitely say something if he was awake, wouldn’t he? He’d be able to feel them hovering over him like this?

Morgan pats Peter on the hip and smiles, gently padding back over to her seat. Peter follows, sits back down, too, taking the remote when Morgan hands it to him. 

They’ve been watching _The Fairly Odd Parents_ recently, which Tony does not enjoy, but he keeps that opinion to himself for Morgan’s sake. Peter opens up the app they’ve been watching it on, glancing at Tony as he selects the next episode and presses play.

The western sounds cut out and the theme song starts, and Tony almost instantly stirs. Both Morgan and Peter sigh, and Tony groans, popping one eye open and looking at them.

“You were _asleep_ ,” Morgan insists.

“You were basically snoring,” Peter says.

“Was not,” Tony says. “Lies. Deceit, from both of you. I was resting my eyes. Put _Red River_ back on, c’mon.” 

He’s smiling, like he knows he’s being a pain in the ass.

He’s lucky they love him.

~

Peter’s arm is still pinned to his side in the sling, but he’s been in the med bay for two and a half days and he can’t take it anymore. Sure, the break is bad. Sure, both Tony and May have mother henned him into oblivion and made him feel like it was worse than it was. But he’s fighting against their parental powers and going for a walk, dammit. His legs aren’t broken, his legs are perfectly functional. May is at work and Tony is at half-power without her here, but he’s still fighting Peter’s decision tooth and nail.

Peter feels...okay. He feels alright, he feels...he feels good enough for a walk, that’s for sure. He knows his arm isn’t the only thing wrong with him right now. But he wants to get out of here. If only for a little bit.

“You should listen to me,” Tony says, standing beside the bed. “I know. I know best. I’ve dealt with lots of injuries. And an entire arm related injury, if you forgot.” He holds up the iron arm and wiggles his fingers

Peter picks at the edge of the sheet, feeling a chill. “I’m not gonna forget any time soon that you lost your arm.”

“Well. Protect yours.”

“From the outside world?” Peter laughs, trying not to get lost in the hell that was the after-Thanos situation, or the recent horror which resulted in his own broken arm. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I just wanna go for a walk and you’re going with me so it’ll be extra fine. And then maybe tomorrow or something we can take Mo to the park.”

Tony sucks in a breath and looks like he’s doubting Peter ever leaving this room. Peter smiles at him and hopes that the cuts and bruises on his face don’t look as bad as they did yesterday. They’ve been healing a little slow. He hasn’t looked in a mirror yet today, not even when he brushed his teeth. Everything is more difficult one-handed, and he doesn’t want to add looking at himself into the mix if he doesn’t have to.

Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed, and stares down at his sneakers. He hasn’t worn shoes since this happened a couple days ago, only socks May put on him the first night, when he was too cold and the hurt was new. 

“Uh, can you, maybe, put my shoes on?” Peter asks, feeling stupid.

“No, I don’t think they’ll fit me,” Tony says, simply.

Peter stares for a second, playing the sentence over in his mind. Then he scoffs, nearly doubling over and shaking his head at him.” What the hell,” he laughs. “That was such a dad joke.”

“You wanna hear another one?” Tony asks, already kneeling down and putting Peter’s sneakers on his feet, like he’s preparing a four year old for his first day of kindergarten. Tony clears his throat, and looks preemptively proud, tying Peter’s shoes. “I used to hate facial hair…but then it grew on me.”

“Oh my God,” Peter says, as Tony straightens back up. “That’s too far. That’s far, far into cornball territory.”

“Well, I only started acting like this when you came around,” Tony says, immediately taking Peter’s elbow when he hops off the bed. “So, it’s technically your fault.”

They’re far beyond denying that Tony is Peter’s father in all but biology, but it still makes Peter feel all warm and sentimental when they actually acknowledge it out loud. 

“Morgan shares in it,” Peter says, gingerly rubbing his arm in the sling.

“That she does,” Tony says. “But you got started. So no complaints, you made me this way. Your fault. Your doing. Your embarrassment to hold and cherish.”

Peter starts heading towards the door, and Tony follows, with a sigh, like he’s not gonna fight him on it anymore. 

“For Father’s Day I’m gonna make you a book of your complete immersion into dadness,” Peter says. “Big sneezes and standing in front of the TV like a weirdo instead of just sitting down and pretending you know more than Friday when she tells you where to go when you’re driving.”

Tony raises his eyebrows, trying to suppress a smile, but he doesn’t fight against any of those accusations. “And I will treasure this book,” he says, patting Peter’s shoulder. “Like I treasure all the gifts from my kids.”

Peter grins at him again, and they head down the hallway, towards the door.


End file.
